Floodtide Prologue
by Ruthie of the Wildcats
Summary: Prologue for Warriors: Floodtide


Prologue: Floodtide

"My services do not come cheap, you realize," a voice like dry pine needles rustling meowed, accompanied by a breath of foul-smelling air. The tawny tabby crouched at the foot of the tall rock bowed his head in acquiescence.

"I understand," he replied softly. "And it is a price I am willing to pay. Anything to get rid of that foolish tom."

"But what I do not understand is why you wish your own father dead," the pine-needle voice continued. "I almost feel pity for him, Wingfoot. Almost. But I feel more curiosity. Why? Why do wish me to kill this fox-pelted warrior?"

Wingfoot lifted his head, green eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Why?" he echoed. "Bone Marrow, he is an abomination!" The tom's hackles rose furiously. "Always telling stupid stories of my kithood and embarrassing me in front of my own leader! He's too old to be a warrior, yet he insists on fighting for his Clan! He shames StarClan! What cat _wouldn't_ want him dead?" He remembered who he was speaking to and dipped his head. "With all respect due."

The dry-voiced cat appeared, pelt gleaming. She was a dirty, yellowish-white queen with yellow eyes. Her ears were torn to shreds, and her body streaked with scars. She crouched down closer to the edge of her rock, interested eyes focused on Wingfoot. A purr built up in her throat. "Don't bow your head," Bone Marrow commanded. "Tell me more of what I need to know. Where can I find him? What would be the best, most ironic way for him to die?"

"There is an old badger who Foxpelt calls Scars."

"You mean this one?" Bone Marrow quirked her tail. A tortoiseshell cat appeared, goading a bulky creature from the shadows. Wingfoot's hackles rose. "Oh don't mind him. He's always a bit cranky when we wake him up. He belonged to my late father, Bloodshed, and now belongs to me. We have him here. Now, about Scars?"

"My father believes this badger to be his friend."

"I see. Yes, it would be most ironic to have this badger 'friend' kill him, wouldn't it?"

Wingfoot's eyes blazed with green fire. "Yes. Yes." He nodded, circling Scars. The badger snorted irately. The tortoiseshell dealt him an angry blow with claws unsheathed. "Yes. This would be perfect."

"Now to arrange how Foxpelt meets his demise," Bone Marrow murmured softly.

"Have him 'attack' a LakeClan patrol in three moons," Wingfoot meowed. "I can show one of your warriors the way if you wish."

"No need. Swift knows the way to this LakeClan's territory." Bone Marrow nodded to the tortoiseshell, who started to drive Scars back into his bramble prison. "In three moons, you shall have your attack. At moonhigh. Be sure he's at the edge of the border." She paused calculatingly. "And now we come to your fee."

"Anything."

"I want one of your warriors." Bone Marrow's gaze was intense; Wingfoot felt it scorch his pelt as he stood before her. "You Clan cats can be very strong if you set your mind to it. You've driven us off before. I want a good young cat, one who will accept me as their leader."

"There are many young cats. A tom called Gracepaw, a she-cat called Sleetpaw..."

"A scent clings to your pelt. A she-cat's scent. Your mate?"

"My apprentice, Riverpaw. She is very strong and sturdy, a wonderful hunter and fighter. Gorgeous blue-gray she-cat with blue eyes. Those charming stripes on her back..." He sighed happily.

Bone Marrow noticed a gleam of affection mingling with ambition in the tom's eyes. She knew exactly what she wanted now. "She will do."

Wingfoot's jaw dropped open. "Bone Marrow, I—I can't—you don't—" His green eyes widened with pain. "Please," he begged, "any cat but her! Not Riverpaw!"

"No Riverpaw, no badger. You either part with your apprentice or you deal with your father problem." Bone Marrow swallowed the triumphant purr that was building in her chest. There was no way Wingfoot would try to wiggle out of this one. She could see he wanted revenge more than Riverpaw.

He sighed long and mournfully. "Very...well," he mewed. "I will drive her to you...she will join your ranks. Take care of Riverpaw, Bone Marrow." He left the clearing, tail trailing behind him on the ground. Bone Marrow watched him leave, her blackened teeth baring in a grin.

"Bone Marrow?"

"Yes, Tempus?"

An albino tomcat settled himself down beside the large rock. His red eyes reflected the moonlight, turning them an eerie scarlet shade. "Do you think he'll go through with it?"

"He'd better if he wants that daft badger to attack," Bone Marrow growled in response. Tempus didn't back away from the fire in her tone. That was what she liked about the young tom. He was bold and daring enough and she trusted him greatly. "Why wouldn't he?"

"You saw the love for that young cat in his gaze. How can he bear to let her go?"

"Tempus, Tempus, Tempus," purred Bone Marrow. "Don't you know? That's why I asked for her in the first place. I can't give my services out to just any cat. They have to be willing to make great sacrifices." She gazed down and the small form of her tan-furred kit. "All my kits have. And only one have survived the test. It's what separates the kits from the warriors."

Tempus shivered slightly in the early new-leaf chill. "And what if he refuses?" he asked. "What if he decides to do the deed himself?"

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure, Bone Marrow?"

"He hasn't the heart." Bone Marrow gazed up at the stars. Cold, icy balls of white fire. Loving spirits! Bah! Foolish cats. Where were their loving spirits when the Clan was driven from their own camp by a young Bone Marrow? She didn't know where the Clan who used to live here was now, but they were likely far away. "Don't you know anything of these Clan beasts? They're too rooted in things that don't exist. Final judgements, warrior spirits, living forever in the stars. Once you die, you're dead."

She turned her gaze down from the sky to study her friend Tempus. "And believe me, soon, they will know death. I will make sure of it."

Overhead, the stars of Silverpelt shone down with cold light, turning the forest to a jungle of silver and shadows. Creatures rustled softly in the bushes as they went about their business of foraging and seeking others' company. The darkness hid one cat, who was walking with his head low and his eyes raw with pain. Everything seemed to be all evil and fear as Wingfoot sadly made his way home to DuskClan territory.


End file.
